


I Might Never Get Another Chance To Say This

by herondick



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Death, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26662777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herondick/pseuds/herondick
Summary: Alastair is gravely injured while on patrol, and Thomas rushes to his side.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Cordelia Carstairs/Alastair Carstairs, James Herondale/Cordelia Carstairs, Thomas Lightwood/Alastair Carstairs
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	I Might Never Get Another Chance To Say This

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: all characters belong to Cassandra Clare.

Thomas threw open the door to the white Victorian house at 102 Cornwall Gardens: Alastair’s house. He had ran there on foot, not bothering with a carriage, once he had heard word from James about the attack.

He had been sitting in the library at the Institute, studying up on his Persian, when James had stormed in. “Alastair has been injured,” he said. “Badly,” he added at Thomas’s lack of movement.

Thomas sat still for a moment, his mind trying to process this information. “How bad is it?” he asked finally, rising from his seat and following James out into the hallway. “Was it a demon?”

James shook his head, his black hair flying around his head like a dark halo. “I don’t know the details. All I know is that Cordelia is in shambles.” He looked over at Thomas, his eyes softening. “It doesn’t look good, Thomas.”

Now, Thomas stood in the entryway of the house, looking around wildly. James had followed him there, running along with him the whole way. Upon entering the house, he went straight to Cordelia, who was seated in an armchair, crying uncontrollably. Sona was rubbing her daughter’s shoulders, clearly trying to hold herself together.

Thomas swallowed against the dry feeling in his throat. “What happened?” he croaked. “Where is he? Have you called for the Silent Brothers?”

Cordelia raised her head. Her face was tear stained and splotchy, and her hair looked like she had been pulling at it. “It was a demon,” she said, her voice full of pain and sorrow. “We were out on a normal patrol. I don’t even know what kind it was.. everything happened so quickly.” She stopped then to catch her breath. “One moment, we were just talking, and everything was fine. Then the next thing I know, Alastair is on the ground, screaming. Blood is pouring from his chest and-” She broke off, unable to continue. She seemed like she was about to hyperventilate.

James hugged her close. “It’s alright, Daisy,” he soothed. “He will be alright. Uncle Jem is here. He’s with him. He will be alright.”

Thomas felt like his world was shrinking around him. He had not talked to Alastair since the engagement party. Mainly because he had told Alastair to never speak to him again, and if he did, he would throw him into the Thames. But now, Thomas wished more than anything that he had never said those words. He wished he had spent every waking moment with Alastair since then. Now, he might never get that chance.

Thomas heard a door open and close softly upstairs. He watched in desperation as Brother Zachariah and Brother Enoch glided down the stairs. We have done everything we can, Brother Zachariah said. Even though he was a Silent Brother, a being that wasn’t supposed to feel human emotion, Thomas could hear the sadness in his silent voice. The poison from the demon is something we have never encountered before. Therefore, we do not have the ability to help him. It is only a matter of time now.  
Thomas barely heard Sona’s wails of grief over the ringing in his own ears. “He’s going to die?” he whispered.

He felt Brother Zachariah’s hesitation to respond to the question. Finally, he gave a small nod, the hood of his parchment robes falling slightly. He is going to die.  
Thomas gripped his stomach, fighting the urge to retch. He heard James consoling Cordelia. Sona was still screaming. Brother Enoch and Zachariah stood in the middle of the room, completely unmoved by what was happening around them. Thomas could only envy them. He wished he could feel nothing in this moment. “Can- can someone be with him?” His voice was still a whisper. “Someone should stay with him until-” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words “until it’s over.”

He can have a visitor, Brother Enoch said, moving to the corner of the room. Brother Zachariah followed him, their steps not making a sound on the floor. We will stay here until the time comes for us to take him to the City of Bones.  
James smoothed Cordelia’s hair down. “Daisy,” he whispered, “go be with your brother.”

She shook her head violently, as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. “No, no, no!” she cried. “I can’t see him like that. He’s my brother. Oh, Alastair!” She fell into another fit of hysterics, with James trying to do what he could to calm her down.

Sona leaned in closer to her daughter, tears falling down her face. She looked at James. “I cannot leave her like this,” she said. “I love my son, but he wouldn’t want me to leave Cordelia like this. You should go, James.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but Thomas interrupted. “I’ll go,” he said, his voice finding unknown strength. He nodded to the three of them. “I’ll go and be with him.” Without looking back, he slowly walked up the steps, feeling completely numb. Was this really happening? The door to Alastair’s bedroom was open slightly, allowing dim light to spill into the hallway. Thomas pushed it open, not knowing how to prepare himself for what was on the other side.

Alastair was on the bed, lying on his back. He was shirtless, allowing Thomas to see the massive gash that was on his chest. The wound went from his left shoulder, all the way to his right side. It was oozing a black liquid Thomas had never seen before. The veins around the wound were black, standing out starkly against Alastair’s skin. As Thomas moved closer to the bed, he saw how pale Alastair was. His usually beautiful dark skin had turned a pale and chalky color. He was covered in sweat, his body trying to fight off whatever poison the demon had given him.

Thomas couldn’t stop the tears that fell from his eyes. “Alastair,” he called out, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. He collapsed onto his knees beside the bed. He ran a hand along Alastair’s forearm, gasping when he felt how cold it was. He’s already dead, he thought to himself.

He put his forehead on the bed, trying to find the words to say. He let his tears fall freely, cursing himself for getting so angry at Alastair. He took a deep breath, steadying his breathing. “I might never get another chance to say this. So here goes nothing,” he said, his voice cracking. He kept his head down as he spoke. “I forgive you, for everything. For everything you said, everything you did. For the rest of my days, I will live everyday full of regret for not being a friend to you. Perhaps,” his voice trailed off. He tightened his grip on Alastair’s forearm. “Perhaps maybe even more than a friend.” By the end, he was whispering, his voice becoming overwhelmed by grief.

Suddenly, Thomas felt the muscles in Alastair’s forearm twitch. “Thomas?” Alastair said, his voice sounding something like metal grinding on metal. “What- what happened to me?”

Thomas started. He raised his head, his eyes wide. He got up off his knees, sitting fully on the bed, careful not to cause too much movement. He ran a soothing hand down Alastair’s cheek. “It’s alright, Alastair,” he cooed. “You were attacked by a demon while on patrol with Cordelia.” The look of worry on Alastair’s face caused him to continue on, “Cordelia is alright. She’s downstairs with your mother and James.”

Alastair gave a small nod, then winced in pain. He ignored Thomas’s look of concern. “The Silent Brothers said there was nothing they could do for me.” He stopped then, his eyes searching Thomas’s face. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

Thomas, despite himself, gave a soft laugh. “I think that part is up to you,” he said. “But yes. They said there was nothing more they can do for you.”

Alastair was staring up at the ceiling, completely still. “You’ve been crying. Why?”

Thomas stuttered. “You’re dying,” was all he said, not knowing how else to respond.

Alastair closed his eyes. “I thought you hated me.”

Thomas bowed his head, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of his words. “I don’t hate you,” he said. “I am so sorry for what I said.”

Alastair smiled softly. “Oh, I know. I heard everything you said,” he replied, turning his head to look over at Thomas. “Please, Thomas. Do not spend your days full of regret. What I said was inexcusable. I was young, and I didn’t know any better.” He stopped. All of the talking was tiring him out. “At least I can die knowing I have your forgiveness.”

Thomas shook his head, brining his hands up to cup Alastair’s cheek. “Please,” he begged. “Stop talking about dying.”

Alastair coughed. A small stream of blood poured from the corner of his mouth. “I want you to do something for me, Thomas. Please watch out for Cordelia. Protect her from my father. I spent my entire life trying to keep her hidden from his addiction. Watch after my mother and the baby, when it is born. And please, tell James Herondale if he hurts my sister, I will haunt him from the grave.”

Thomas felt the tears, once again, pour down his cheeks. “I promise, Alastair. I will watch after them.”

Alastair breathed in deeply, and Thomas could hear his breath rattle in his chest. “Will you lay with me? I would feel much better knowing I am facing death with someone I care about.”

Thomas hid the alarm that threatened to spill onto his face. Alastair was beginning to sound a bit delirious, which told Thomas it was almost the end. “Of course I will.” He climbed into the bed beside Alastair, laying his arm across his chest so he could feel his breathing. He pulled the blanket up a little higher on Alastair’s waist. “Do you need anything?” he asked, wanting to make sure he was as comfortable as possible.

Alastair opened his eyes for the last time. Thomas committed the color of them to memory. “No,” he murmured. “I just want you.”

The two of them laid together until Thomas no longer felt Alastair’s chest moving. He closed his eyes as if he could shield himself from the grief and pain that awaited him. He bit his lip, fighting back the sobs that wanted to fight their way through his chest. “Ave Atque Vale. Hail and farewell, Alastair.”

Thomas laid with Alastair’s body for a few more moments before finally making his way downstairs. He felt as if it were someone else, anyone besides him, that told Alastair’s mother and sister the news of his passing. He watched numbly as the Silent Brothers carried his body from the house, putting it gently in the carriage to take him away to the Silent City. He replayed Alastair’s voice in his head, “At least I can die knowing I have your forgiveness.”

Later that night, Thomas walked the streets of London alone. He would never be the same, he knew. He would never forget the boy who showed him Paris, and who became a companion to him in one of his darkest hours. He would always remember the depth of his laughter, the way his face would dimple when he smiled.

Until we meet again, Alastair Carstairs. Thomas continued walking, on and on into the dark night.


End file.
